


your life is my life's best part

by JaguarCello



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, post-series two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1889577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarCello/pseuds/JaguarCello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a year after the mud soaked through to Kieren's skin in the graveyard, and the ripples have not yet stilled. Perhaps they never will, but Simon is there for him in the darkness. It still seems like a miracle - a real one, this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your life is my life's best part

**Author's Note:**

> contains spoilers up to and including the last episode of series two, and references to suicide and drug use, so watch out for that one. Other than that, it's a sort of mix of angst and ridiculous soppiness. 
> 
> my tumblr is [here](http://www.francisabernathy.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk about this!

“Well,” Kieren says, looking in the mirror and then back at the teeth-marks on Simon’s neck, “we tried,” and Simon shrugs and smiles at him, white teeth flashing in the semi-darkness of Kieren’s bedroom. It’s January, again, and the frost has grasped at the windows and painted the pavements a shimmering white; Amy has been gone a year.

“I thought it might work,” he says quietly, running his big toe slowly across the tiles of the floor, drawing patterns. “I honestly did think that lovebites were possible, and I wanted to display – I wanted people to have to realise,” he adds, and he reaches out to trace the shape of Kieren’s face. “I mean, I’ve already displayed my tendency to stop thinking around you - “

Kieren catches his hand, long fingers slipping around his wrist, and so he quiets, just as he always does, and smiles again. If he had a heartbeat he would feel it in every cell of his body, he is sure – when he had a heartbeat, when his blood was hardly his own and poisoned, he remembers other touches, other bodies curved against his in the cold winter nights – but they are vague, and more dead to him than the man in front of him with ghosts in his eyes. Kieren kisses him.

“Your kisses,” Simon says, “are like – like the first breath of air I took again. Like rising from my grave and seeing life and love and _you_ rather than just being thronged by the dead again. You are – “

“You are getting a little soppy,” Kieren says, but kisses the scars on the crooks of his arms, leaning forwards until his hair brushes at Simon’s bare chest.

“That’s macabre,” Simon says, slightly more slowly, watching the curve of his lips and the flick of his tongue, and Kieren smirks.

“We’re dead, remember?” he says, and then stops, looking up at Simon. “Amy’s _dead_ – “ and his voice is broken as it was when he first found her body bleeding in the mud, and his coat was stained with the grime from the graves and Simon is not quite sure whether or not he has washed it since the day he buried her.

“Remember her life,” he says, thinking of her smile and her long skirts blowing in the wind. “That’s what she would have wanted, remember? Remember her shining and happy in the sunshine,” but he can feel the aching hollowness of his words, and he takes Kieren’s hand.

“It’s so _unfair_ ,” Kieren whispers, and Simon is reminded of the steely resolve behind those quiet eyes. “She was more alive than any of us, she was the _first_ – “

“There is no first and no last,” Simon tells him, circling his thumb across the back of Kieren’s hand. “There will be no second Rising,” and he spits the word, “and there will be no glorious _revolution_ ,” and his voice is small and Kieren presses a kiss into his hair.

“The Undead Prophet is a liar,” Simon goes  on, voice getting louder until Kieren puts a finger to his lips.

“I know,” he says simply, and Simon thinks again that his heart should be beating, such is the rush he feels. “I don’t blame you,” he adds, and shuffles closer to him, legs tangled in the duvet. From the walls, Amy smiles at them, and Simon takes both Kieren’s hands in his.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes against his neck, and he feels Kieren smile, so he smiles back and goes on. “You make everything make sense, but then you confound it as well – my beliefs and my convictions melted away the first time you kissed me. You have made me more human than I ever thought was possible,” and he looks down at his scarred arms. Kieren tilts his wrists so that Simon can see the jagged scars across his own arms, and shrugs.

“You saved me,” Kieren says quietly into a silence so sudden it seems that the world is holding its breath for this next moment; maybe it is, for all Simon knows. “You saved me from – from wanting to die all over again,” Kieren goes on, and nods at the postcard stuck to the mirror. “Rick had gone and so I thought that I should go, too, and so I did, but then, well,” and he pauses for breath, as if he needs it any more.

“Rick loved you,” Simon tells him, and the words do not hurt him. “He died for you,” he added, and Kieren nodded.

“People seem to be doing that a lot, these days,” he says bitterly, and over on the far wall Amy smiles down at them both.

“Well, to be fair, I only _tried_ ,” says Simon, and he looks over at his coat, slung over the chair along with the rest of their clothes, and the bullet-holes are still obvious. He’s started to like it, actually – he looks like he has become as hollow as the folk in the churches seem to think, and it reminds him of Kieren, of knocking him into the dirt – and he kisses Kieren again.

“We seem to be doing a lot of that, these days,” Kieren says, and it seems like there is a smile waiting behind his lips, and so Simon draws it out with slow, gentle kisses and harder ones, until Kieren is straddling him and all Simon can do is kiss him back and whine quietly, throat to the patient stars above and _alive_ –

“Are we possible?” Kieren asks, and Simon rolls them so that he is looking down at Kieren, and smirks.

“To be fair, we’re not sure how the physiology works  just get, but, you know. It seems to be possible for me,” he says, and Kieren rolls his eyes and rolls them over again.

“Stop being clever. I am fully and deliciously aware,” he says, primly “of what is possible, when it comes to you. Anything, really, if we’re being soppy. Fucking hell, you could move the skies and I would think they are even more beautiful – “

 “Anything is possible, Kieren Walker,” Simon tells him, and kisses him again, as if he could feel his heart beating again, fluttering like a wounded bird, and Kieren kisses him back. “Look at you,” he adds, and watches Kieren duck his head.

 “Anything,” he echoes into Simon’s chest, and Amy smiles at them.


End file.
